


Always With Me

by newmrsdewinter



Category: Persona 3, Persona Series
Genre: F/F, F/M, Future Fic, Slice of Life, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-27 22:36:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16228712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newmrsdewinter/pseuds/newmrsdewinter
Summary: Six years apart, Yukari's life intersects with Mitsuru's in the world they fought together to save.[Yukari x Mitsuru future fic. Follows six years after P3P's version of the Answer. Contains some elements of Arena and Arena Ultimax, but will largely ignore the main storyline.]





	Always With Me

**Author's Note:**

> A friend of mine convinced me to post something after...more than a year's hiatus? Fandoms cycle in and out on whim for me, and I haven't felt the drive to write FE for a long time, sadly. 
> 
> I really love Yukari and Mitsuru and I hope to do them justice in this sad little story.

 

     Six years after the fall of Erebus, Yukari Takeba sees Mitsuru Kirijo for the first time, one world away from Tatsumi Port Island.

The Christmas shoot for the new SK-II skincare line began at approximately two in the afternoon and had stretched to the very early hours of morning the next day. Yukari Takeba, working model and actress extraordinaire, was still shaking the glitter particles out of her hair when she and her manager stumbled into the nearest restaurant and ordered the greasiest items on the menu.

A photographer was hiding somewhere in the alley, but Yukari was too exhausted to care. If unsolicited pictures of her eating noodles popped up in the tabloids the next day, then so be it. She peeled off her waterlogged coat, slid into the sticky pink booth, and scarcely noticed the waiter place two bowls of soup and a heaping platter of soup dumplings onto the table.

The inside of the restaurant was unreasonably cold, considering how jammed-packed it was with people. Yukari poured herself some tea and held the steaming cup close to her lips, allowing the warmth to seep into her hands.

Outside, the air was heavy with static and humidity from the sudden downpour flooding the streets of Shanghai. A clap of thunder rattled the windows, sheets of rain pouring down the glass, smearing the alleyway outside in pink and yellow neon wetness. The early light of dawn crept over the skyline, but it still looked like night through the glass.

Yukari tuned out her manager’s prattle about the bad weather and the shoot. Instead, she listened to the chatter and murmur of the customers around her, the clink of spoons against bowls. The conversations seemed to grow louder as the thunderstorm grew fiercer, rising to an uncomfortable pitch. Her skin crawled.

“What time is the flight tomorrow?” she asked, hoping to dispel her disquiet. She picked up her chopsticks, resolving to finish at least half of her noodles before leaving. She bit gingerly into a dumpling. The hot, fragrant soup burst inside of her mouth, blistering her tongue.

“Got cancelled,” he replied, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He waved over the waiter to order something else. “Been having hailstorms here since two days ago. Hail and thunder, in the middle of July. Can you believe it?” He shook his head, then plopped a dumpling into a sauce bowl.

Yukari peered up from her bowl to reply, but a flash of red caught her attention in the smudgy mirrored paneling across the wall. She squinted, and her noodles turned sour in her stomach.

There, facing her in the reflection of the mirror, sat Mitsuru Kirijo, sandwiched between two dour-looking businessmen. She looked much the same, save for the heavy bags under her eyes and her plain, civilian attire. Yukari watched, frozen in place, as Mitsuru gave a tight-lipped smile at something one of the men had said, idly swirling a cup of cheap beer in one hand.

Clearly, Mitsuru was working. Her presence explained the draft in the restaurant, and perhaps even the storm outside. Yukari couldn’t think of any other reason why she would be sitting in a dinky little dim sum restaurant at three in the morning. She swallowed thickly, her throat dry and her appetite gone. She hadn’t heard anything about Mitsuru ever since her engagement two years prior, and even less about the Shadow Operatives since then.

Awfulness and anger twisted in her gut, awfulness and anger. One of her fists involuntarily clenched, and she glanced down at it, as though she hadn’t meant to do so. 

In the mirror, Mitsuru caught her eye before Yukari could look away. Her pulse snapped to life when Mitsuru inclined her head in greeting, and it took Yukari’s two remaining brain cells to nod back stiffly.

“What’re you looking at?” asked her manager, his spoon stopping short of his mouth. His eyes darted to her, then her hand. “You see something weird?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing,” Yukari said quickly, not quite realizing she dropped her chopsticks until they had clattered to the floor. She turned away and ignored Mitsuru for the rest of her meal. By the time the waiter had cleared their table, the restaurant was empty and Mitsuru was long gone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic began because I thought it was hilarious how Yukari is canonically a celebrity and I wanted to explore her disconnect with her new life after the trauma of the Dark Hour. TBH at this point, I really don't know how much of this is my own fanon and actual canon, so uh this will be interesting. 
> 
> Overall, this fic won't be chronological, but the next chapter will follow shortly after the events of the first. 
> 
> Like I mentioned in the summary, this story won't completely follow P4 Arena or Arena Ultimax because I've never played both games, but the Shadow Operatives do exist in this universe.


End file.
